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Dead Frontier/Issue 110
This is Issue #110 of Dead Frontier by Walkerbait22, titled Bad Blood. ''This is the second issue of '''Volume 19.' Issue 110 - Bad Blood They've left behind the safety of the house and proceeded with their journey, still no set destination in place. Iowa doesn't really provide much in terms of scenery, with its long stretches of barren land and the occasional small town with nothing that distinguishes it from the others. All four of the trucks are filled with uncomfortable silence. Winston's stunt at the store is a topic better left unspoken; opinions vary wildly, and talking about it will only lead to harsh arguments, as they've already found out. Their empty stomachs have them frustrated enough, so they leave the issue alone for now. Adam pulls his his car to a stop, prompting the three behind him to do the same. He offers the usual instructions: split up, scour through every inch of whatever building you decide to search, and be careful. He, oddly, stays behind this time. It's easy to see he didn't sleep very much the night before, if at all. Slowly, he trudges back to his car and stretches out in the front seat. The car is empty, and he closes his eyes. He gets about ten minutes of relaxation before hearing a tapping on the passenger window. He sees Duke peeking at him through the glass, so he rolls the window down halfway. "What's up?" Adam asks, and he forces himself to suppress a yawn. "Uh...nothin'. I wanted to make sure you were doing alright over here," Duke says hesitantly. "Can barely tell you're alive, man." "That's the case for half of us," Adam says bitterly. Duke sighs and opens the door, closing it quietly once he's inside. "You can give yourself a break once in a while," Duke says. "Don't think all this is your fault." Adam taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. They're starving. They've got no medicine. The people that were so close just two months ago have pretty much divided themselves over Winston's split-second decision to kill that woman. And it was Adam's own choice to take responsibility for everyone here, to decide where they go, where they stay, who eats and who doesn't. Who else's fault can it be, other than his own? That's what he tells himself at least, and he can't stop thoughts like that from driving him crazy every minute of the day. Duke expects him to respond, but when he doesn't, he continues on. "You're a smart dude, Adam, everyone here has crazy respect for you. If you wanna keep being that guy everyone looks up to, don't beat yourself up so much. It'll drive you out of your mind." "Pretty hard not to." "I'll help you out. Chill for the next couple of days, let me take the load off. I'll call whatever shota I need to, and you can relax. If things get outta hand, I'll deal with it. Don’t worry." ---- Jake roams around a store with Ivy, his mind wandering as aimlessly as he is. He knows he should be looking for food--he is hungry--but he’s tired, too, and anything besides sleeping doesn’t interest him in the slightest. He’s aware of some rustling at the other end of the store, a sound similar to the moving around of shelves, but he knows it’s just Lienne and Tora. If there was any trouble, they warned they’d call out, anyway. He’s finally snapped out of it, the fog in his mind clearing, when Ivy says his name. “You still don’t talk a lot,” she says. “So?” he grunts in response. “I thought you’d talk more by now.” “Maybe I just d-don’t talk to you,” he says. “Why not?” she says, ignoring his insult. “Because I don’t have anything in c-common with a 12 year old girl.” “Maybe you do. Do you like...reading?” she asks. “No,” he says simply. “Movies?” “We don’t even have any.” “...Um--what about drawing?” she asks, and she notices the nearly imperceptible change in his expression. “Yeah. I do,” he says a little reluctantly. “I don’t r-really do it anymore.” “You should. Then maybe you’ll smile more.” She offers a smile of her own before turning away, continuing down the aisle. He feels the corners of his mouth turn up against his will, but he forces the grin from his face. They search for a while, and Jake’s hopes of finding anything dwindle with each passing second. There’s not a single speck of food, not a drop of water, not a stitch of clothing. He looks up and down the only shelf in the entire store they haven’t checked, looking behind it, expecting a can of beans to fall out of the sky. But there’s nothing, per usual. He sits staring at the shelf for a while, the reality of everything setting in. This is the first day they’ve gone completely without food for the last few months; he knew they’d run out sometime if their luck continued on its usual downward spiral, but now that it actually is gone, he’s scared out of his mind. Out of all the plausible ways to perish nowadays, starving to death was one he never really dwelled on, until recently. That thought gives him a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, and mixed with his hunger, he suddenly feels nauseous. “Jake!” Ivy shouts from somewhere far off in the store. He follows the sound of her voice, until he spots her pulling at some metal vent. She doesn’t seem to have much success in getting it open. “I see something...in there…” she mutters. He crouches down next to her and peeks through. His eyes are met with total darkness, and he looks at her, obviously a little annoyed. “There’s nothing there,” he says. “No, no, there is,” she says. “Loosen the screws, with your knife.” He complies and pull his knife. He uses the blade to unscrew the bolts on each of the four corners of the vent. He pulls it off easily, revealing a small, dark tunnel. At the end, he can see a light. It’s just a speck, barely noticeable. “Whoa, what’re you doing?” he asks when he sees her poke her head in. “I just wanna see,” she says. “Uh...no. I’m responsible for y-you right now, I can’t l-let you go down there.” “No one said you were responsible for me. It’ll be fine.” He looks at her for a long second, then sighs. If something good’s down there, he doesn’t want to be the one that stops them from getting it. “Okay. But don’t go d-down too far, okay? If I tell you to come b-back, come back.” She nods quickly and turns her attention back to the vent. She crawls inside cautiously, shivering as the cold metal touches her palms. Squinting down at the light, she continues forward on her hands and knees until the light grows brighter and larger. She thinks she may have gone too far, but she can’t turn back now, not with the curiosity pulling her in. Jake’s warning travels down the vent, but she ignores it as she nears the edge of the vent. She can see a room at the end of the tunnel, the walls an odd mix of white and crimson. Her first thought is that it’s blood. Instead of scaring her away, that makes her more intrigued than ever. The entirety of the room comes into view; the vent is only a few feet above ground, so she positions herself with her legs dangling off the edge. “Wow…” she says. The floor is covered in a thin pool of red liquid, and two tables line the back wall. There’s a set of double doors on the other wall, but other than that, it’s empty. The tables are made of metal, covered in terribly blood-stained sheets, and the door is rusted, the paint fading. She drops herself from the vent, landing on the floor and staining her shoes from a puddle of blood. Careful not to slip, she moves around the room slowly. She doesn’t expect to see anything different, but she stares around in awe anyway, proceeding toward the door. Faintly, she can hear Jake calling for her. ---- Cole, his head leaning against the window, hears the car door open, bringing in a blast of hot air. He opens one eye to see Lucy entering. She doesn't greet him, maybe out of the assumption that he was sleeping. She leaves the door open in hopes of cooling the interior some more and sits with her back to him, feet hanging outside the car. "Nothing?" he asks. She gives a slight shake of her head. The silence grows heavier and heavier until he almost feels like it's weighing him down. Finally, realizing her plan to cool the car isn't working, she closes the door and adjusts herself so she's facing the windshield. He can feel a chasm steadily widening between them. His biggest fear is that they won't be able to close it. Everyday he's felt this rift getting bigger, growing into one word 'conversations' and irrational annoyance. He can't remember the word 'love' passing his lips in a while--or hers, for that matter--but he knows it's there, just hiding behind stress and worries and hunger and fear and anything else that happens to go wrong. He just wonders if it's there for her, too. He's given her her space. He's tried to talk. He hasn’t brought up the Winston situation, knowing they both disagree on it. He doesn’t know what else to try; all he knows is that he needs to fill this void that’s infected them, or it’ll keep growing for who knows how long. He clears his throat, and she gives him a fleeting, curious glance. “Do you remember when…” he begins, but then trails off. She looks up at him with raised eyebrows, and he realizes he’s successfully gained her full attention. “...when I first met you and I choked on my coffee?” There’s the slightest trace of a smile on her lips, and her recollection of the memory manifests itself as a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Why?” she asks. “Did you ever think you’d be sitting here with that same idiot...11 months later?” She thinks about it for a while, so legitimately surprised by that timespan that she has to make sure it’s accurate. “I didn’t,” she admits. He smiles. “You just indirectly called me an idiot.” “It wasn’t the best first impression.” “Yeah, but you can't blame me. The coffee was just...really hot,” he says coyly. She rolls her eyes at his impish grin, but soon both of their smiles fade, their expressions shifting into something more serious. He swallows hard. He should say something. He should probably say something. Words scramble wildly in his mind; he's sure if he says anything he'll get tongue tied, maybe even say the wrong thing. He wants to laugh at himself: he can't believe she still makes him feel this way. “I love you,” he says suddenly, his voice steady. It's impossible for him to pull his eyes from hers. At the same time, they lean in to kiss; they meet each other’s lips almost impatiently, flooding him with such a myriad of emotions that he’s nearly overwhelmed. Being this close after weeks of barely brushing shoulders, he feels his heart skip a few times, he can’t tear himself away. For just a few seconds, how terrible their luck has been, how desperate they all are, none of that matters to either of them, even if it's only for a brief moment. They're only snapped out of it by a banging on Cole's window. They jump, startled, and turn to see Dean's frantic face. Cole rolls down the window. "We've got a problem," Dean says. ---- "How do you lose a person?!" Lienne shouts at Jake. They stand in the same store as before, everyone else gathered around them. "She's a small person," Jake responds with a shrug. "Okay, she went into a vent?" Tora says impatiently, ignoring his remark. "Yeah. I tired yelling, b-but she didn't respond." Beads of sweat begin to pop up on his forehead. He did say he was responsible for her. He leads them to the vent, and Tora crouches down to look inside. She sees the familiar light Jake and Ivy saw earlier. "Ivy!" she calls, cupping her hands over her mouth. She waits anxiously for an answer, but none comes. The vent is way too small for any of them to fit through, she notes. "Look around," Tora orders. "See if there's any other way to get down there." ---- After ten minutes, it doesn't look like they're going to find a way to reach Ivy. They can't find another larger vent, a door, anything. They search inside and out, around the building and even the surrounding ones. That is, until Duke scans the area around one of the checkout counters. He notices quickly that this counter isn't bolted to the floor like the other ones. He sets his feet firmly on the ground and pushes it. The metal slides against the tile, creating an uncomfortable screeching sound that radiates through the store. Something odd comes into view the farther he pushes the counter from its original location. It looks like some kind of metal rectangle embedded into the ground. Soon, Duke sees a handle on the block of metal. Dre and Mae gather around him to inspect it, assuming it's some kind of trap door or cellar, and when the counter is fully out of the way, Mae gives the handle a hard tug. There's some resistance, but after a few more hard pulls, the door flings open. Mae, Dre, and Duke look down, completely speechless. Bags and bags and more bags fill the room, lining the walls almost all the way up to the low ceiling. And right in the middle is Ivy, gorging herself with a can of beans. "It's food!" she shouts up to them, her mouth full. She opens up the bag next to her and shows them the contents proudly, just to prove it. Duke carefully drops down from the door into the room. He glances around, not sure what to do exactly. He's surrounded by it, the one thing he's wanted for weeks, and now he can't do anything but stare. Mae and Dre drop down as well, pulling him out of his trance. Mae transfers to a crouch, and grabs a bag from the top of a pile at the nearest wall. She dumps its contents onto the floor--dozens of bottles of water, unopened. She grabs the first one she sees and can't chug it fast enough. Duke still stands dumbfounded with his hands on top of his head. Dre suddenly shoves something at him. It’s a large, dark bag, heavier than he would have thought. “Look at that shit,” Dre says breathlessly. Duke pulls at the zipper to open the bag, and a bottle of red wine nearly tumbles out. He catches it before it can fall. The rest of the bag contains identical bottles, along with more water. He sets it on the floor and scrambles over to the wall next to Mae, eagerly tearing open bags and inspecting their contents. “Is...is that all food?” Adam calls down to them, his voice filled with doubt. “Water...food...fucking meds in this one,” Duke calls back. Adam scoffs, then jumps down to see for himself. It takes a few seconds for him to comprehend it, but he knows this isn't a fantasy. ---- By the time night comes, they still can't believe their luck. They cleaned the room out as best as they could, filling the trucks to the brim. They didn't have the room to take all of it, but this is more than enough, and they couldn't be more grateful. They've stuffed themselves during the ride, and those bottles of wine are no longer full. It's so relaxing, that feeling of a full stomach and being free of worry, any issues they had before have been forgotten. Lienne pulls her truck into a nearby driveway. The home next to it is illuminated by the headlights, and upon quick observation, she decides it doesn't look too bad. "Here's good?" she asks Adam, who sits in the passenger seat. He agrees and shouts out a quick order to Mae, Winston, and Dre to check out the inside. They comply and waste no time grabbing a weapon from one of the trunks. It's clear, besides two infected that were easily disposed of with Mae's crowbar. Theres nothing of interest inside; just a standard home with a few bedrooms and a dingy, empty basement. No pictures or anything else to indicate the identities of whoever might've lived here. After parking the cars in the backyard, they settle in quickly, and soon the house is filled with nothing but silence and snores. But Winston is wide awake. He occupies one of the upstairs bedrooms, and he sits on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, impatiently tapping his foot on the hardwood. He stops only when he hears the creak of an opening door. He turns his head slightly to see Dean entering, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "You wanted to talk to me?" Dean asks. He shuts the door quietly behind him. "Yeah. Probably want to sleep, but this is...it's too important to wait," Winston says. Dean leans against the door wordlessly and waits for him to continue. "I want to leave." "Uh...what?" "Leave the group. Go somewhere else." "That's...drastic? Why?" "Because half of the people here don't trust me. That's why. All of these damn dirty looks, I hated them before, but now with all of that bullshit back at the store...it's ten times worse." "So you're whining because people don't like you?" "You should know a little about that." There's a short, uncomfortable pause, but Winston doesn't retract his remark. "Why are you telling me?" Dean asks. "I want you to come with me. I can tell you don't like it here, either. You never have." "It's good enough." "It isn't," Winston says, standing from the bed. "With the way they operate, they won't last for another month. I guarantee it. I trust you, though, and I can tell, if you got the chance, you'd be out of here quick." "I--" Dean begins, ready to disagree, until realizing he's right. It's easy to tell, for him at least, that he's detested by nearly everyone, or not cared about enough to be a priority. He's filled with a sudden bitterness that makes him clench his fists. "Would we just...leave?" Winston suppresses a grin. "Pretty much," he says. "We'd have to make it quiet, if we want the food." "The food? You wanna take it?" "Some of it, yeah. I'm not leaving with nothing." He almost laughs. Dean scratches his head awkwardly. "I...I don't like them as much as you do but--that's kind of...fucked up." "Since when are you such a saint? We're not taking all of it. Jesus, lighten up," Winston spits at him, but then takes a deep breath to calm himself down. "It'll be easy. And we'll do a lot better with just us two. Less mouths to feed and all that." Chloe can't stop herself from listening to their conversation, her ear pressed against Winston's door. She knows she should just walk away: she's heard too much already. She's having a hard time believing they're actually going through with this, deserting everyone and stealing a hefty amount of food to go along with that. That's what she thought she heard, at least. She has to admit, with their hushed tones, their conversation was a bit muffled. She jumps, holding in a gasp, when she hears someone whisper her name from behind her. She sees Lienne, who laughs quietly at her dramatic response. "What are you doing here?" Lienne asks. Chloe grasps her by the arm and leads her down the hall, which only adds to Lienne's confusion. "Dean and Winston are talking about leaving," Chloe says. "I'm...actually not too sad about that. Not at all." "They want to take the food, too." "They wouldn't do that. C'mon." "That's what I heard." Lienne purses her lips and crosses her arms. "Should we...say something?" she asks hesitantly. "We have to, don't we?" "I mean, I wouldn't really want them to know we know." Just then, the Winston's door opens and Dean emerges, rubbing his eyes. He sighs loudly and walks toward them. Only until he's a few feet away does he notice them, too sleepy to question their odd silence. "Goodnight," he mumbles and he moves past them, down the stairs. ---- Chloe, Lienne, and Tora sit anxiously in the living room, as Duke, Dre, Dean, and Mae work on bringing more of the bags into the house. "How long does she sleep? Geez..." Tora says. She was recently filled in on Dean and Winstons machinations, and a little skeptical about the plan Lienne and Chloe cooked up. "Any second now..." Lienne says. After a few minutes, they hear a door opening down the hall. Lucy appears soon after, and they collectively let out a sigh of relief. Lucy just looks at them oddly. "You guys okay?" Lucy asks. "This is really important. Come here," Lienne says. She leads her Lucy into the kitchen, Tora and Chloe following. They let the door swing shut before speaking. "Something's wrong," Lucy says, observing their nervous expressions. "You could say that," Chloe says. "Something happened last night." "We think Dean and Winston might be planning to leave. And taking the food," Tora explains. Lucy takes a few seconds to process this before asking: "Did you tell Adam?" "Not yet. We...we don't know if that's actually the plan." "It was kind of hard to hear, yeah," Chloe says. "Before we tell anyone, we just want to make sure." "And...where do I come into this?" "Dean's still drooling over you and I think, out of anyone, you could get him to talk," Lienne says. "If anything's going on." "He knows I don't like him." "You've had a change of heart, some kind of epiphany. He actually is a good guy--whatever. Lay it on thick if you have to." ---- Dean sits on the kitchen counter, looking through a bag that sits in his lap. There are a few energy bars inside, all in flavors he hates. He sighs, dumps the bag on the ground with a soft thud, and hops off the counter. He stops suddenly when the door opens and Lucy enters. She says a quick 'good morning' and proceeds over to the other counter, and pretends to look through the bags. Of course, she already ate. She can hear his footsteps retreating toward the door, so she says his name. "Yeah?" he says, turning. "Do you know where the water is?" "Uh...I think Duke put the bottles in that bottom cabinet," he says with a vague gesture. She crouches down and searches through it, finding nothing. He sighs and walks over, then opens the next cabinet over. He retrieves a bottle and hands it to her with a forced smile. "This one," he says. “Oh. Right,” she says. “Thank you.” There’s a short, awkward silence as they both stand. He’s ready to turn and leave, but she initiates conversation again. “Did you eat yet?” He opens his mouth to respond, before realizing how strange this whole interaction is. “Why are you talking to me?” he asks instead of answering. She takes a quick sip of her water before capping the bottle. “Well, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” “No, no--I didn’t mean it like that. I honestly don’t remember the last time you’ve said a word to me. And now you’ve said 16 in like...two minutes.” “You counted?” He swallows hard and feels the warmth rise to his face. “18,” he says with a nervous laugh. She smiles. “Good one,” she says, sitting herself on the counter. “I guess if I said ‘20’ it wouldn’t be funny anymore.” “Probably not...but I appreciate the effort.” He thinks of something to say, but his mind goes blank. His eyes wander where they shouldn’t, but he quickly fixes his gaze to meet hers before she can notice. “I’ll--just go, I guess," he says shakily. "A-again, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything with the--with the question.” “It’s fine. It’s a valid question. I’d wonder the same thing, if I was you,” she says. “We had a good day yesterday and--and I know it’s stupid, but it kind of seemed like a new start. For all of us. So...why not stop all this stupid bickering when we’ve been living together for two and a half months, almost? Sad it took yesterday to get me to realize it.” “No...it’s not. And it’s not stupid.” He clears his throat. “Better late than never, right?” “I guess. I just hope I’m not the only one that thinks so.” He looks so flustered, she’s not sure he’s going to be able to choke out another word. “Before...you say anything…” she says, trailing off slightly. “I think I should probably tell you something.” “Oh. What’s that?” “I know about last night.” She hides her nervousness as she waits for his response. “What?” he asks unconvincingly. “Leaving,” she says simply. His jaw tightens and he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You...overheard?” She nods. “Most of it, yeah. And...you’re sure?” “No,” he says immediately. “I mean, I thought about it. I’m--I’m still thinking about it, okay?” His voice is hushed and stern. “With the food, too?” He hesitates. “I can’t. I can’t do'' that''. It doesn’t matter what you think of me: that’s just low.” She’s honestly surprised by the emotion in his voice. Oddly, she feels a bit of respect for him. With an offer as tempting as the one he received, it’d be difficult to reject it so readily. “If I can get Winston to drop that part of the plan...yeah, I’ll go.” There’s the tiniest amount of heartbreak in his expression, but he tries his best to keep it hidden. She wasn’t supposed to pity him; she was supposed to get him to fess up and rat him out. But she can’t help but feel bad, as much as she did think she detested him. “No one needs to know,” Lucy suggests. “I can keep it a secret, if you decide to stay.” “''You''?” “I can let Adam know it was Winston’s idea, and you had nothing to do with it.” “You actually want me to stay?” “I just don’t want you to make a mistake.” Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories